45. Luna #2
His eyes darken. The knife in his hand materializes out of nowhere. He presses it flat against my ribs.
But he doesn’t cut.
He drags the blade slowly and deliberately across my skin. “You always did like to run your mouth. Let’s see how long it takes before you beg me to stop.”
Amani growls. Raven’s chair creaks with the force of her struggle.
He ignores them.
He leans in. “Do you remember our house?”
My pulse skips.
“Remember that room I kept you in when you disobeyed?”
My stomach flips.
His voice softens to a whisper so only I can hear. “I’ve rebuilt it, made it better. Soundproof. Reinforced. I’ve even added a little window so you can watch your friends suffer while I… correct you.”
My vision tunnels, breath catching.
I force a smile. “Hope you reinforced the door. Because I’m going to rip it off the hinges when I come for your fucking heart.”
He backhands me again.
Lights burst behind my eyes.
But I still smile.
He leans close, breath hot and thick with tequila and rot. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. You can fuck whoever you want, but at the end of the day, you’ll always belong to me.”
I see it—the twitch in his jaw—the frustration.
He stands, circling me slowly like a predator sizing up his kill.
“Let’s play a game,” he says, voice slick with anticipation. “Every hour, I’ll let you choose which of your friends gets hurt.”
Raven flinches. Amani stiffens.
“And if you refuse?” he grins. “Then I’ll do it for you.”
He steps toward Amani first.
And that’s when I laugh.
A broken, cracked sound.
He stops.
“Something funny?”
I meet his eyes, feral. “You always did like games. But you never did finish them, did you? You’re too much of a pussy. You like to pretend you’re in control but just scared. Scared of women like me—ones who survive.”
He lunges, grabbing my throat.
But I don’t stop laughing.
Soft, taunting, filled with all the rage I’ve buried for years. “I find it funny when all your little friends begged for their pathetic lives when I hunted them down. They even begged for me just to kill you so they could be free.”
His jaw locks. His grip tightens.
The back of the knife slaps against my cheek, snapping my head to the side.
Amani screams, struggling so violently I hear the chair legs scraping against the floor.
Raven?
She’s not breathing. She’s staring at me while silent tears run down her face.
Eugene leans in, breathing hot against my cheek. “That man let you run wild. But I’ll have the pleasure of breaking you in again.”
BOOM.
The walls shake violently, the explosion ripping through the air, making the entire building tremble like it’s about to collapse.
Gunfire erupts outside, the rapid bursts echoing through the halls.
My lips curve into a slow, sharp smile.
About fucking time.
He’s here.
My Dracula is here.
Sarah stumbles, her head whipping toward the door.
Eric? That spineless coward bolts without hesitation, disappearing into the chaos.
I let him go.
Because right now?
I have unfinished business.
Eugene’s knife hesitates, his grip faltering.
That’s all I need.
Sarah barely has time to react before I move.
I slice through the ropes I’ve been working at for the past ten minutes, slipping free just as Sarah’s gaze snaps back to me.
Too late.
The blade in my hand sings as it slices through her cheek.
She screams, stumbling backward, clutching her face as blood spills between her fingers.
But before I can finish her off—A hand fists my hair from behind, yanking me back with brutal force.
Pain explodes across my scalp as I’m slammed against the chair, my breath knocked from my lungs.
I don’t even have time to recover before I feel it—cold steel dragging over my stomach.
Slow. Calculated.
Eugene.
His breath brushes my ear, his voice low, dark, and dripping with cruel amusement.
“You’re still so fucking reckless, baby,” he murmurs, pressing the blade’s tip against my ribs. “Still acting like you don’t have a goddamn master.”
I grit my teeth, twisting just enough to glare up at him. "Go to hell."
He chuckles, the sound a deep, bone-chilling vibration.
“Oh, I’m already there, sweetheart,” he purrs, pressing the knife harder.
“That all you got, Eugene?” I taunt, licking the blood off my bottom lip.
Sarah, still holding her ruined face, stumbles toward us, her expression twisted with rage and satisfaction. “We should kill her now.”
Eugene clicks his tongue, dragging the blade lower, trailing it over my hip, tracing every old scar, every new wound like a man reacquainting himself with something that still belongs to him.
My stomach churns.
“You can always leave Sarah,” he mutters absently, his eyes never leaving mine. "But I like my wife bloody before I put her in her place."
His wife.
His wife????
I lift my chin, eyes glittering with ice-cold fury.
“I’m going to kill you,” I whisper, voice sharp enough to cut deeper than his fucking knife ever could.
Eugene smiles, slow and lazy, his fingers brushing over my exposed thigh.
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, dragging the knife up, pressing it just beneath my throat. “till death do us part, remember?”
Gunfire erupts closer.
The building shakes again, the echoes of violence ripping through the walls.
Eugene’s head snaps toward the door, his body going rigid.
Amani laughs hoarsely behind us, a wild, broken sound. “You’re dead, asshole.”
Sarah frowns, eyes darting to Eugene. “We need to move?—”
She doesn’t get to finish.
Because the moment Eugene is distracted, I strike.
I twist sharply, slamming my head backward, the back of my skull colliding with his nose.
A sickening crunch.
Eugene curses violently, stumbling back, his grip loosening just enough?—
I grab the knife from his hands, pivoting on my bare feet, slashing across his forearm.
He roars in pain, clutching his bleeding arm.
I don’t stop.
I drive my knee into his gut, sending him crashing back against the crates.
Sarah lunges.
I catch her wrist mid-swing, twisting brutally, forcing her to her knees.
The gunfire outside intensifies.
Eugene laughs wetly, still clutching his bleeding arm.
“Well, well,” he rasps, grinning through the pain. “Here comes your Russian mutt.”